


Good Knight

by TokyoDAZE



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beating, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gangsters, M/M, Nightmares, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokyoDAZE/pseuds/TokyoDAZE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe: Stuart has a bad dream about something that refuses to let go. Luckily, a canine roomie is sticking his head out for him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Knight

_“What’re ye gonna do, runt?” A teddy voice sneered from above him, accompanied by sharp pains all along his body. Drunken laughter echoed down the dark alley. Stuart gritted his teeth; he was lying curled up on the cold, filthy floor of that place—heaven for him, a bohemian of the most curious type, and yet a hell, where evils roamed every street and corner. Sharp thuds were being traced all down his small body, and with each kick, he could feel the pressure in his skull growing tighter and tighter, pressing in on his consciousness. He wanted to pass out._

__  
“Stop… please…” Wishing he remembered to take the medication for his migraines, he pleaded quietly for the pain to end.  
“The Reeperbahn is no place for the likes of you!” One of them shouted as Stuart was grabbed and thrown against the wall. He felt the back of his head slam against the bricks, and the throbbing that resonated in his forehead grew from a stinging pulse to a roaring screech.

_  
“Stop, please!” He cried out again, weakly, slumping down to his knees. Blood was trickling from a fresh split in his lip, and his left arm was growing numb. He felt like he should’ve been used to this kind of treatment. His bandmates… why weren’t they coming to save him? They always saved him. But nobody was coming…_

_**  
“Get lost, wunderkind.”** _

_  
Stuart looked up. The walls were gone, the floor was gone, the sky was dark; it was all gone, and whatever was there before was shrouded in darkness. Those teddy boys… were shadows, holding silhouettes of guns and knives. Beady, red eyes bore into his chest like hungry werewolves, and he could feel terror rise like bile in the back of his throat. Where had he seen these faces before?_

_**  
“You couldn’t possibly think you belong here, do you? You were made to create, not to explore. You don’t need anyone to save you. Now hurry up and get rid of the teddy boys yourself. You don’t like being beat, do you? You’re the best. Show me.”** _

_  
“N-no…” He rasped. “I’m… It’s not like that…”_

_**  
“Yes it is. You know it is. Nobody else matters. Who cares about John? George? Klaus? Jürgen? You don’t really need them, right? Come on. Kill these teds and get on with it.”** _

_  
“You’re… a tumor.” Stuart hissed, swallowing his agony. He staggered to his feet, glaring at that awful thing. “I love to create… but I love me friends more. All ya do is take it away from me. I don’t want you!”_

_**  
“No. You need me. Without me, you’re just a lonely little dreamer. Worthless. I wasn’t even made for you. I was a gift meant for your lovely, elusive angel. You know, don’t you? But you screwed everything up by taking it for her. Why would you do such a thing? Now you have to be with me because of your own stupid mistake. But you should be grateful. I could make you a legend. I could make you go down in history, if only you’d listen.”** _

_  
“What if I don’t want to go down in history?” Stuart snapped. “I just wanna be with the people I love. I want them to be happy.”_

_**  
“Why? You don’t need them.”** _

_  
“I don’t need you, either!”_

_  
**“You don’t have a choice. Listen, wunderkind. We’re going places, whether you like it or not. All you have to do is paint. Is that so hard?”** Black ribbons began to wrap around his lithe body, slowly making their way from his feet to his chest. Stuart struggled to move, unable to answer. As they tightened around him, he found it becoming more difficult to breathe. The teddy boys were melting in his vision, morphing into one large, grotesque creature that hung above his head. This hurt so much more than being kicked in the head by any gang of teddy boys. The ribbons were beginning to snake up his throat and into his mouth, slightly agape, and soon reached his eyes and began to block what little he could see. _

_  
“H-help…” But, even now, nobody came, and he was all alone with this tumor. He was choking on those ribbons now, feeling helpless._

_  
**“Is it so hard?”** _

_  
He really couldn’t answer. He was suffocating in the shadows, and he knew quite well what suffocating felt like—his chest was burning, begging for air, but he couldn’t feel anything but that tumor. The ribbons closed over his head, and he wished… he wished someone would save him._

 

 

Stuart woke up screaming. He had felt so much pain, and his body was still convulsing in agony. His throat felt dry and hoarse, but he couldn’t stop screaming, even when he tried. Tears fled down his cheeks onto the bed sheets underneath him.

  
“Oi, oi… oi. Stu… Stuart!” A light voice raised from an elevated position. The artist’s screams of anguish died down a little bit, turning into heavy, tear-soaked breaths. He clutched his shoulder, looking around—he was back in the sunroom, and filtered moonlight gently drenched the room in its coolness. He was on his round, suspended bed, and as his vision cleared, he could see Paul looking down on him from the bed hanging above his.

  
“Are you okay?” The soldier asked, his hazel eyes flickering with concern. “Didja… ‘ave a bad dream?”

  
_A bad dream… so that’s all it was._ Stuart nodded slowly, his open, chapped lips trembling with fear. His chest was still burning, and his head aching, but knowing he wasn’t alone helped him to breathe just a little.

  
“Stu…” In one strong, wolf-like pounce, Paul had left his own perch and was kneeling next to the artist, hand on his chest. “Breathe, darling, breathe…” Stuart bit his lip, trying to catch himself in slow, rhythmic pants. Eventually, the headache ebbed away, and Paul lifted his hand after several long minutes had passed.

  
“What’s wrong, love?” The werewolf asked gently, wiping tears from his gemmate’s cheekbones. “What did ya dream about?”

  
“Nobody was comin’ to save me…” Stuart grasped Paul’s hand, clutching it tightly, as if he was afraid the bassist would try to pull away from him. “Nobody… nobody at all… I was gonna be trapped… all alone…”

  
Paul stared down at him thoughtfully, a slow blink hiding his thoughts.

  
“Don’t… don’t go, Paulie, I…” He bit his lip, swallowing the past. “I know it’s not… it’s not supposed to be like… this… for us, since, y’know, we’re… enemies, but… otherwise… I’d be alone… I don’t want… I don’t want to be alone… not like in that dream…”

  
“Well, ‘twas just a dream, and that’s all it’ll ever be. I ain’t leavin’ ye.” McCartney laid down next to him, smiling softly. He pulled the little artist close, and began to murmur. “Let’s share a bed tonight, just to be safe. Hide yer face in my chest, place yer hands on my shoulders and I’ll hold ya like this for as long as ya need. It seems silly, but… everything you are… everything you’ve done and told me about… makes it feel as if you’re a royal… a prince, so… if it means anything to you, if it makes you happy, I’ll be your knight. I will protect you. I promise I won’t let you go.”

  
It felt so comfortable there, in the embrace of the wolf, his knight. Stuart snuggled into the contours of his body, breathing gently into the cloth of the soldier’s chest, feeling safe and secure. He closed his eyes. “Yes, I… I like… this. It feels good… and… how flattering of you… to call me… a prince. But… I won’t fight it, as long… as you still consider me… your friend. That’s really… all I want… to be friends.”

  
“Very well then… my prince.” Paul chuckled playfully. “Let it be this way. Sleep soundly.”

 

 

_“There’s nothing you can do!” He heard someone shout. A kick was delivered to his face, sending him into the brick wall behind him. He hissed, trying to suck up the pain. Teddy laughs rang all the way down the corridor, and the taste of blood filled his mouth._

_  
“Go back to where you came from!” A boy jeered; Stuart said nothing as he was lifted by the collar and socked again. This time, he felt far away from this fight—if it was fair enough to call it that—and listened to a blackbird croon from far away. The headache beating down on him was a dull, throbbing ache._

_  
“MY PRINCE!” Suddenly, all the kicks and blows came to a halt. Weakly. Stuart looked up to see a wolf tearing into the pack of teddy boys; his eyes were wild with rage as he ravaged the gang, biting and snapping at the fiends with all his might. Those boys screamed as they fled the alley, leaving a collapsed Stuart alone with the wolf._

_  
“My prince,” The wolf smiled as he morphed and stretched into a humanoid form: Paul. He slowly stepped forward, kneeling and pulling Stuart’s head up into his lap._

_  
“I promised I’d save you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Oops... This is super cheesy. It belongs to an extremely elaborate AU I have been developing over the course of the past half-year, so don't mind all the strange information.


End file.
